


Idle Hands

by Empy (Empyreus)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Blood, Cigarettes, Frustration, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, On Set, Quitting Smoking, Smoking, Stubbornness, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-15
Updated: 2003-02-15
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empyreus/pseuds/Empy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Devil finds work for idle hands. *ducks projectiles*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinzia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinzia/gifts), [littlemimm (Mimm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts), [tackerama](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tackerama).



> This spun off from two things: a detail in Cinzia's "Enough", and the phrase "The Devil finds work for idle hands".
> 
> For [](http://cinzia.livejournal.com/profile)[**cinzia**](http://cinzia.livejournal.com/) (because she deserves it) and for [](http://littlemimm.livejournal.com/profile)[**littlemimm**](http://littlemimm.livejournal.com/) and [](http://tackerama.livejournal.com/profile)[**tackerama**](http://tackerama.livejournal.com/), my lovely betas.

Nothing was safe. Pens were broken, quite simply fiddled apart or bitten ragged; any piece of paper was shredded. Sean trying to quit smoking was an endless source of amusement, and his stubborn denial of any difficulty added its own charm.

Viggo gave a wry smile as he sat down on one of the tree trunks far off to the side of the Parth Galen set. At least he himself was sensible enough not to attempt to give up smoking at once. He tapped the end of his cigarette on his knee, out of habit rather than need -- a charming little habit picked up from Elijah, that.

Leaves rustlewhispered as they were crushed under heavy boots, the sound melding with the clink of a sword hilt meeting chain mail. Without turning, Viggo lit his cigarette, closing his eyes at the first inhalation, fancying he could hear the crackle of the tissue-thin paper burning to ash instantly. The smoke tingled in the wound on his lower lip, not quite burning.

The scent of smoke turned vague as the air moved, bringing metal, leather and vestiges of aftershave.

"Sean," he acknowledged, opening first one eye, then the other, smiling around the cigarette at Sean's half-concealed envy.

"It's passive smoking. Don't count." Sean said, ignoring the greeting but offering a sly smile. "Stop laughing," he said, sitting down next to Viggo, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. Pulling his glove off, he began picking at the already frayed end of the band holding his cape closed. "I'm good."

"Then what is that?" Viggo asked, vaguely waving the hand holding the cigarette, biting down on the grin at Sean leaning forward just a fraction, lured by the pale blue trails of smoke. "You're taking that apart. Wardrobe won't be happy."

"I need to do something with me hands," Sean said, his fingers stilling, then twitching, grasping around a cigarette not there. "It gets worse when you smoke, you evil bastard." The glimmer in his eyes spoiled the intended angry glance.

Debating with himself for a few seconds, Viggo cast a look around. Almost too conveniently out of sight. Perhaps he'd planned it, set a trap that hadn't seemed like a trap even to him. Still, the prey it had drawn had been the intended one, and so it was a triumph.

Replacing the cigarette between his lips, Viggo leaned over, twisting to the side, and grasped Sean's wrist. The skin that his bare fingertips touched was flushed and warm, the pulse not quite slow. It wasn't as much a tug as it was coercion when he placed Sean's hand square on his groin.

"Why don't you do something useful with your hands then?" he murmured.

Sean's eyes narrowed, the green shading into slate as another slow smile woke, and his warm hand stayed put, shifting in a slow caress even as Viggo let go of his wrist. At the first flex of Sean's fingers, Viggo's teeth clenched, and the inhalation was half smoke and half cold air.

Taking a final, long drag, Viggo let the cigarette fall, grinding it into the mat of decomposing leaves.

As the last lungful of smoke he had inhaled slithered from between his lips, Sean leaned in, stealing the smoke with a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss, blurring the issue of what Sean wanted more, Viggo or the nicotine. Sean's hand kept moving, tracing and retracing, pressing the seams of the clothes into the caress. Groaning, Viggo wished he could feel Sean's hand on his naked flesh, but that would have meant breaking the contact.

Sean's fingers moved upward, rucking up Viggo's tunic and shirt. Sliding his hands over Viggo's lower stomach, Sean ruthlessly sought out all the most ticklish spots, lingering on each for half a second. Sighing, Viggo bucked his hips up. The sigh twisted into a hiss as Sean's long fingers wrapped around his cock, and Viggo relished in the rush of heat, giving a little gasp against Sean's kiss. A day of blessings, this, each of his thoughts seeming to turn real.

The kiss was broken, allowing a sliver of icy air between their mouths. Sean's breathing was deep, breathlessly frayed, and he licked at Viggo's lips, as though seeking the taste of smoke still. Viggo could feel Sean's mouth curve into a grin against his, and he answered it, the arches of their smiles melding into something hot and liquid.

Hot like Sean's hand wrapped around his cock. Like the fingers stroking just...*so*.

Viggo exhaled raggedly, his boot heels digging into the soft ground. Sean's mouth, his wicked tongue, was the last heated shove over the edge. Grasping Sean's wrist, forcing a hold, Viggo bucked up one last time, squeezing his eyes shut. He bit down on Sean's lower lip, helpless in the heady rush of the orgasm. Tang of blood in the kiss, the slightest taste of iron on his tongue, and he broke the kiss.

Leaning back a fraction, Sean gave a little sound of his own, a surprised little lust-laced laugh.

"Almost as good as a smoke, that," he said, finally. "Almost."

The surprised huff that escaped Sean as he was shoved down onto the leaves looked like smoke in the cold air.


End file.
